A New Mask
by FishyFloat
Summary: Wildwing wants some new equipment. World building drabble.


**AN:** This is a drabble that's been rattling around in my head for the past couple of weeks. It really has no other point than world building. Hopefully I can focus on some other things now that I've got this out. Generally, I would shove this into the Blurbs and Bunnie's document I keep; but, I figured you guys might enjoy getting a little peek at what floats through my brain as I drive, paint, or before I sleep. Hope you like it!

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><p>"Hello, I'm Stephane," the petite brunette greeted. Her long, curly hair was tied back in a neat ponytail, and she wore sensible blue jeans and a tee shirt. She looked like she'd rather be lounging on the sofa than meeting with a professional hockey player.<p>

"Nice to meet you." Wildwing held out his hand. "Wildwing."

"Yes, I know." She smiled as she shook his hand. "So, I hear you're looking for a new goalie mask?"

"Another one, yes."

"Well, come on in." With a grand wave of her hand, she beckoned the alien into her studio. "As I'm sure your manager already informed you, I specialize in prosthetics and props for Hollywood. I've never done anything like what you're asking, but I'm more than up to the challenge. You wouldn't believe what the studios ask for." She rolled her eyes in memory at the odd requests. "Ever see Aliens?"

He snorted in half laughter, half derision. "Only every day I'm on this planet."

"Cute." She smiled warmly. "I helped design and make the Queen."

"Um… Okay." He wouldn't admit it, but he rarely watched any Earth film featuring invading aliens. Those movies only showed extraterrestrials two ways: as evil, invading species that wanted nothing more than the destruction of humans, or as super intelligent creatures that saw humanity as insignificant and Earth as a resource to be mined. Either way, he didn't appreciate the false ideas those types of shows put in people's minds regarding his team. Then again, they weren't too far off when it came to Saurians.

"Not a movie buff, I take it?" She led him down a long hallway and into a well-lit studio. The room looked more suited to a photo shoot than artist's work area. A large, gray sheet covered one wall and a portion of the floor. Lights with white filtering umbrellas were positioned strategically around the sheet to minimize shadows.

"I'd probably watch more if I had more time." He glanced towards the stool sitting on the gray sheeting.

"We'll take pictures in a little bit. First, I'd like to get some more information. Have a seat over here." The artist motioned to a pair of comfortable, red upholstered arm chairs. "Now, what exactly are you wanting me to make?" She retrieved a notebook and pen from the end table near her chair.

"I need a new mask, maybe two."

"Yes, but I need specifics. Do you have your old one for an example?"

He shifted to the right a little bit so he could remove it from the pouch at his side it lived in when not in use. "You can photograph and make a mold of this one, but it doesn't leave my sight. And, don't try to put it on."

She reached out for the white object and inspected it. It was made out of some sort of metal, thinner and more lightweight than she'd have expected. The inside was completely smooth except for what she assumed were ventilation holes. "How does it stay on?" There were no straps, no indentions, no obvious places for adhesive.

"It would be impossible for you to replicate that one."

"I'm sure." She held it up and looked through the eye holes, being careful not to indicate that she wanted to put it on. That request seemed a little odd, but she was willing to honor it. Athletes were supposed to be superstitious; maybe he thought anyone else wearing it would be bad luck. "What about this mask do you like? What needs to be different?"

"It's actually one of the more comfortable masks I've worn. Lightweight; doesn't get too sweaty. I'm a little rough on my gear, so it'd be nice to have some for backup."

"A little rough?"

"I've been known to stop the puck with my head. Kind of happens when your little brother is more focused on speed than accuracy."

"That's got to hurt."

"Yeah, a bit." He shrugged. "This one gets put through enough without being used every game."

"What about your gold one? Don't you already have two? Not that I'm complaining! I mean, it is an honor to even be considered for this job."

"It's identical to this one and I'd rather not use it in games." Most people assumed he had two different masks and he was happy to let them think that. If the NHL or other hockey players knew what the relic was capable of, they'd accuse him of cheating. Besides, the humans were better off not knowing about the history surrounding the Mask of Drake DuCaine or the threat it helped protect them from. They'd only panic.

"So, what exactly do you need? Any particular areas that need to be protected?"

"My whole face?" He chuckled. "It needs to extend past my bill by about half an inch on all sides. My old one back on Anaska had a throat shield and protected my ears and the back of my head better than this one."

"Throat shield?"

"Mm-hmm. I've noticed other goalies have plastic ones attached to the bottoms of their helmets. The style I liked back home had some type of lined fabric that went around my chin and neck."

"What was it made of?"

"Kevlar? I'm not sure. It was similar to my body armor but more flexible."

"Okay…" She scribbled in her notebook, documenting his requests. "Now, if you don't mind," she stood and loomed over him. "I need to study your face."

"Go ahead." He wasn't sure where he should look. Should he meet her eyes or would that be rude? Her intense gaze was a little unsettling.

The young woman moved slowly from one side to the other, tilting her head at different angles. "Could you look up for me?"

He complied, a little unsure about what exactly she needed to see.

"Okay," she crossed her arms and nodded as if satisfied. "I think we can get some pictures and then make a mold of your face."

"Oh!" Eyes rolling at his forgetfulness, he reached into the pouch at his side again. "Tanya drew this up for you." He handed her a folded paper with several technical drawings specifying various Anaskin goalie mask designs.

"These are perfect!" She held the paper next to his head, glancing between the two. "Uh-huh. I see. That shouldn't be too hard at all." Lowering the sketches, she scrutinized them closer. "Tanya's quite the artist. These show some real talent. I didn't know any of you drew. Does she do anything else? Landscapes or figure drawing, maybe?"

"I've only seen her do equipment designs." Honestly, he'd never even thought of that as requiring artistic talent. Whenever they needed a new weapon or vehicle, Tanya had a design sketched out in a matter of minutes. It was just part of the building process; she was a technician, not an artist. Then again, she could have a sketchbook hidden away somewhere. Tanya was the teammate he knew the least about; she never offered any information on her past and had never seemed interested in sharing.

"Well, let's get some photos done. Shall we?"

They moved over to the stool and camera setup. Wildwing turned his head as directed while she took what must have been hundreds of reference shots. After that, she led him into another part of her studio. This room looked far more like an artist worked there. Half finished projects littered tables and sketches were taped to the walls. A barber's chair sat next to a light bulb lined mirror and desk.

"We're going to make a silicone mold of your head. You aren't claustrophobic, by any chance?"

"No. I've had this done before." His parents had insisted on paying for custom fit masks once he started seriously training for the professional leagues in high school.

"Oh! Good. I'm still going to explain the process, just in case there are any differences. First, you'll cover your face and neck in the mold release. It's kind of oily but doesn't stain or stink. Then, we'll need to put the bald cap on. I'll use a light adhesive to hold it in place."

"Wait. Adhesive?" No way was he letting her put glue on his feathers.

"It's a low tack glue. It doesn't stick to hair or pull very much when you remove it. You can wash your face with soap and water after to get the rest of it out."

"I don't use soap." It stripped the oils from his feathers, leaving them dry and brittle the one time he'd made that mistake.

"What do you use?" Honestly, how did they get clean if they didn't use soap?

"A mixture of coconut and castor oil."

"Hm. I don't know if that would get rid of all the glue or not. You could try the lava soap; it's made from pumice. It's abrasive but isn't soap."

"Do you have to use the glue?"

"Unless you want to be pulling silicone out of your hair for the next week, you'll want to use the bald cap."

He sighed heavily, weighing his options. At least it was the off season, and there weren't as many photo shoots or publicity stunts. Nosedive would tease him endlessly if he had a few bald spots. "Fine."

"Okay. I'll trim the bald cap a bit and use acetone to help erase the line between the cap and your face."

"No." He shook his head emphatically. Glue was bad enough.

"There'll be a line in the mold if I don't."

"When you have to deal with white feathers, you can put all the glue, soap, and acetone on them you want. No." It was extremely difficult to maintain white plumage to his standards. His feathers were softer and more prone to breakage and yellowing than buff or gray.

"Maybe I can sand out the line on the casting," she mused. "Okay, no acetone. After we have the bald cap in place, I'll paint several layers of silicone. When that's dry, a support cast of plaster bandages will go over the silicone. Those take about fifteen minutes to dry. The whole process should be about an hour and a half to two hours."

"Then let's get started." That was twice as long as it'd taken back home. Maybe he could take a nap while she made the mold.

"Do you mind if I touch your beak? I like to get a good feel for whoever's face I'm working with before putting on the silicone. Sometimes, little bumps or ridges don't come out clearly. It can make all the difference between a nose prosthetic fitting properly or not."

"No, go ahead." At least she had asked. Far too many children at public appearances grabbed for their beaks without realizing how rude they were being. He closed his eyes while she gently ran her hands over his face and head, occasionally making notes. Shivers ran down his spine as she brushed the edge of his bill, and he pulled away.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No, just… Um. Ticklish." Yeah, that was the best way to describe it.

"Well, I think I have everything." She handed him a bottle of clear, oily liquid. "Brush this over your face and we'll get that bald cap on."

Wildwing complied. Who knew having a basic piece of hockey equipment made would be so involved? No wonder Mallory constantly threw fits about her chest protector and shoulder pads.


End file.
